(no subject)
Tuesday night, Lena, Tom, and I went to go see Then She Fell in Brooklyn. It's immersive theater, like Sleep No More, based on Alice in Wonderland. And of course Alice in Wonderland is one of my favorite things ever, so we had to go to this. Except in actuality it's based a little more on the relationship between Lewis Carroll and Alice Liddell (which is also one of my favorite things).
Doors opened at 10:10 (show was at 10:30), so we had to sit outside on the stoop until they let us in. Doors were clearly locked while we waited, it really led to the feel that you were trapped in there (but not in a creepy way). We all went to a waiting room at the start, where the narrative was framed for us that we were visiting the Kingsland Ward mental hospital, and we were encouraged to look around and read files as necessary, so long as we put everything back where we found it and didn't open any closed doors. We wondered if that was a wink-wink-nudge-nudge warning, since in SNM they openly encourage you to be bold and explore, but no, they just didn't want you to open doors. But that's okay, there was a reason for that.
The show has 15 audience members total, and at least eight cast members. There are at least two hospital nurses, maybe three, maybe four, it was hard to tell sometimes and they were all dressed alike, obviously.
They broke us off first: Tom, Lena, and I were in a group with two other girls, Glasses and Ponytail. It's worth nothing that with the way the show was structured, I never saw any other audience member that wasn't in this initial group of 5. We went to a chapel set, where Alice #1 (Big Alice, as we called her, since she was taller), was reading a letter, then Carroll came in and they did this very sad, intimate dance together. At one point Small Alice (who we're reasoning was Looking Glass Alice) came in and took them away, then we got led into the room beyond that, and got to watch the red room through the window, where the Red Queen essentially raped the White Rabbit.
Then the White Queen came into our room, and she coached Small Alice through giving us drinks (an orange-based shot) and fish crackers, they did a lovely dance, then the White queen ran off and Small Alice did a sad routine with Carroll. the White Rabbit came and took myself, Lena, and glasses upstairs. He gave us each a petal from a white rose, then took us into a room with filing cabinets and brought out a secret hidden box. He took two petals back and then opened the box, then he pulled out a form listing "the white rabbit's evidence" and had me paste my rose petal to it, then put it in a file cabinet. Lena and I were led to an observation room where the Red Queen was freaking out about her pills and on her chart it had information listed about Lorina Liddell, Alice's mother). She found us and yelled at us to get out, so we went back into the hallway where the white queen glided by and asked if we liked tea. We said yes and went to the tea room.
She sat us down but then immediately started throwing the furniture around, then stacked it up by the door and climbed on top of it imperiously. The doctor came into the room and beckoned her to come down, he led her out and then started his own dance, where he asked what I preferred: sweet or spicy (sweet), smooth or sharp (sharp), red or white (red). And when I gave my answers, he did these cool dances up and down ladders fetching the ingredients, which he gave to Lena to combine. He told us the tea should steep for 8 minutes and then disappeared, which is when the White Rabbit came back and moved us. The Mad Hatter came in with Tom and Ponytail in tow, sat them down, then he and the White Rabbit did this really elaborate dance-fight which involved moving the table around. Then the queens came in and nonsense ceased, they set up the table and then all of the Wonderlanders did this cup routine, then the Mad Hatter yelled he wanted a clean cup, so we all moved over one, then it happened again, then again, then finally they passed out the tea. (It was tasty. go me.) The Red Queen, Mad Hatter, and White Rabbit left, taking Tom and Ponytail with them, then the White Queen took Lena and me to a bedroom, where she lay us down in a bed and made us close our eyes while she told us a story about a girl who lived backwards. (We agreed it was great we were still together for that; Tom said he had to share the bed with a stranger and it was very uncomfortable.)
The White Queen left and the Hatter came in. He was clearly depressed, he danced around for a bit, marked things on the walls, then pulled out a microphone and sang the last verse of the White Rabbit's evidence over an intercom. The Hatter took us out of the bedroom, but the nurse intercepted Lena and I was on my own for the first time. The Hatter took me down to the haberdashery, where he piled a series of fabrics in my hands and asked me if I knew how to sew. I said no. He asked me about crocheting, no. Macrame, no. Needlepoint, not in a long time. He said not in a long time was no good, and he asked me if there was anything I did know how to do. I said write and he got all excited and asked if I could take dictation. I said yes, and he made me put down all the fabric I was holding, took a quill and ink out of a drawer, and started dictating to me. The letter was to Mr. Carroll and he kept changing it, making it impossible to get anything down, which is just as well because it got increasingly threatening and at one point he expressed his desire to set Mr. Carroll on fire. Somewhere in the middle of this, Glasses came in with a hat order. The Hatter asked her what kind of head she said, and she said, "a good one?" and he started instructing her on hats, while still dictating his weird, broken letter to me. Then at the end, he declared my scrabbled dictation (where I kept insisting on writing "Dear Mr. Carroll" every time he said it, even though it took up time and space) to be enough, tossed it over his shoulder, and asked what kind of head I had. I said long, so he put me in a crazy leopard-print hat. He asked why a raven was like a writing desk, and I said no one knows. I was splattered with ink by that point.
He led us and our crazy hats to a room where two chairs were set up on opposite sides of an empty frame. He told Glasses she looked ravishing, told me "You're dangerous," took our hats and scampered off. Both Alices came in and did a lovely dance around the frame (which was supposed to be a mirror). Then Big Alice took me into a side room where she pulled some vials out from under a desk, and we shook them up and drank them. Then she did this amazing dance where she grew and shrank. Words cannot do it justice - you knew she was just stretching and moving up on furniture, but she did it in this beautiful, interesting, indescribable way where you got the distinct impression she was actually growing. Then she shrunk back down, smaller than normal, squeezing into a tiny gap. It was utterly spellbinding. Betsy had seen the show the week before and told me about this particular routine, and she was absolutely right. (Comparing stories, we realized that what you see appears to be based on where you sit - we saw the exact same tracks and realized we'd sat in the same seats.)
Alice took me back to the frame room where Glasses was waiting and had apparently snacked on clementines with the other Alice. Big Alice gave us each sections and we munched them, Big Alice grinning like a satisfied child all the while. She led us back to the initial waiting room (part of the set now! Who knew!) and then snuck out of the door, positioning us to watch down the hallway where Lewis Carroll was doing a really interesting dance under the stairs, writhing and lolling and looking like he was walking up them. When he was finished, he came and collected us, taking us to the staircase and disappearing, leaving us in the care of a dancing nurse. Glasses and I split up there, when the nurse led me to the rose room. The rose room was lovely, roses all along the wall and ceiling, and a big pile of beheaded ones on the floor. I was placed on a stool next to a butcher block where a painted rose was sitting (Lena and I are pretty sure this was the one she painted when she was off doing crafts with the White Rabbit). The Red Queen and the Rabbit came in then, she looked at the rose laying on the butcher block disdainfully, beheaded it with a large kitchen knife, and left. The Rabbit, who was perfectly pleasant on his own but was absolutely twitchy and rabbity when in the presence of the Red Queen, then did this elaborate knife-spinning routine. I know it was a set and scripted, but there is still something very unsettling about being alone in a room with a sweaty man and a large knife. He took a rose from the pile on the floor and inserted it into the ceiling. It was very cinematic.
The Rabbit then took me into the hallway and sat me there, the Doctor and a different nurse than before were doing a miming dance in the hallway. I think they were supposed to be taking inventory. A second or possibly third nurse came along and put me in Carroll's office. He had me take dictation for him, and he actually gave me time to finish, unlike the Hatter. He also had a regular ballpoint, so I did not walk away smeared with ink. He pulled a book on his shelf and it motherfucking opened a secret door into a secret room, this gorgeous fucking set where some of the floorboards were torn away and there was just water everywhere with discarded bottles in it. He rolled up the letter I'd written for him, put it in one of the bottles, then just let it float in the water. (Internet hunting leads me to believe that the text is the same as the torn-up letter from L.C. Big Alice was reading when we came downstairs.) One of the prevailing themes for the show is "no one ever seems to get all the mail that gets sent out." Well no wonder.
A nurse then came to collect me, taking me to a room across the hall with a series of weird animal portraits and a Victrola playing "The Walrus and the Carpenter". She gave me a hollowed out book and left me alone (the book contained a series of documents about Carroll), then came back to give me the program and a cup of tea. Then we all got to go downstairs and meet up. There was no big finale like there is with Sleep No More, but each of the final scenes we got worked beautifully as an ending scene. A desolate and barefoot Lewis Carroll, sitting ankle-deep in water filled with broken missives to the girl with whom he has a complicated relationship, thinking about his life choices in this room that blurs the line between fantasy and reality? A gorgeous, appropriate ending.
Favorite dance was probably the Alice growing dance, I cannot stress that enough, it was absolutely beautiful. Favorite set was Carroll's secret room, it was so weird and out of place in the overall asylum setting, but so beautiful. Favorite cast members, although I think they rotate them between performances, were the White Queen and Big Alice. Big Alice had this remarkable childlike wonderment, even though the actress was about my age. And the story is so wonderfully tragic and haunting. The soundtrack I didn't care so much for. I want to compare it, naturally, to Sleep No More, but other than the dancing and the immersive nature of it, there's no real comparison between the two. The entire damn thing is a one-on-one, and you are just basically in the story. The characters acknowledge you, they talk to you, they ask you questions. It's the most intimate, engaging theater experience I could imagine. We've already bought return tickets.
Doors opened at 10:10 (show was at 10:30), so we had to sit outside on the stoop until they let us in. Doors were clearly locked while we waited, it really led to the feel that you were trapped in there (but not in a creepy way). We all went to a waiting room at the start, where the narrative was framed for us that we were visiting the Kingsland Ward mental hospital, and we were encouraged to look around and read files as necessary, so long as we put everything back where we found it and didn't open any closed doors. We wondered if that was a wink-wink-nudge-nudge warning, since in SNM they openly encourage you to be bold and explore, but no, they just didn't want you to open doors. But that's okay, there was a reason for that.
The show has 15 audience members total, and at least eight cast members. There are at least two hospital nurses, maybe three, maybe four, it was hard to tell sometimes and they were all dressed alike, obviously.
They broke us off first: Tom, Lena, and I were in a group with two other girls, Glasses and Ponytail. It's worth nothing that with the way the show was structured, I never saw any other audience member that wasn't in this initial group of 5. We went to a chapel set, where Alice #1 (Big Alice, as we called her, since she was taller), was reading a letter, then Carroll came in and they did this very sad, intimate dance together. At one point Small Alice (who we're reasoning was Looking Glass Alice) came in and took them away, then we got led into the room beyond that, and got to watch the red room through the window, where the Red Queen essentially raped the White Rabbit.
Then the White Queen came into our room, and she coached Small Alice through giving us drinks (an orange-based shot) and fish crackers, they did a lovely dance, then the White queen ran off and Small Alice did a sad routine with Carroll. the White Rabbit came and took myself, Lena, and glasses upstairs. He gave us each a petal from a white rose, then took us into a room with filing cabinets and brought out a secret hidden box. He took two petals back and then opened the box, then he pulled out a form listing "the white rabbit's evidence" and had me paste my rose petal to it, then put it in a file cabinet. Lena and I were led to an observation room where the Red Queen was freaking out about her pills and on her chart it had information listed about Lorina Liddell, Alice's mother). She found us and yelled at us to get out, so we went back into the hallway where the white queen glided by and asked if we liked tea. We said yes and went to the tea room.
She sat us down but then immediately started throwing the furniture around, then stacked it up by the door and climbed on top of it imperiously. The doctor came into the room and beckoned her to come down, he led her out and then started his own dance, where he asked what I preferred: sweet or spicy (sweet), smooth or sharp (sharp), red or white (red). And when I gave my answers, he did these cool dances up and down ladders fetching the ingredients, which he gave to Lena to combine. He told us the tea should steep for 8 minutes and then disappeared, which is when the White Rabbit came back and moved us. The Mad Hatter came in with Tom and Ponytail in tow, sat them down, then he and the White Rabbit did this really elaborate dance-fight which involved moving the table around. Then the queens came in and nonsense ceased, they set up the table and then all of the Wonderlanders did this cup routine, then the Mad Hatter yelled he wanted a clean cup, so we all moved over one, then it happened again, then again, then finally they passed out the tea. (It was tasty. go me.) The Red Queen, Mad Hatter, and White Rabbit left, taking Tom and Ponytail with them, then the White Queen took Lena and me to a bedroom, where she lay us down in a bed and made us close our eyes while she told us a story about a girl who lived backwards. (We agreed it was great we were still together for that; Tom said he had to share the bed with a stranger and it was very uncomfortable.)
The White Queen left and the Hatter came in. He was clearly depressed, he danced around for a bit, marked things on the walls, then pulled out a microphone and sang the last verse of the White Rabbit's evidence over an intercom. The Hatter took us out of the bedroom, but the nurse intercepted Lena and I was on my own for the first time. The Hatter took me down to the haberdashery, where he piled a series of fabrics in my hands and asked me if I knew how to sew. I said no. He asked me about crocheting, no. Macrame, no. Needlepoint, not in a long time. He said not in a long time was no good, and he asked me if there was anything I did know how to do. I said write and he got all excited and asked if I could take dictation. I said yes, and he made me put down all the fabric I was holding, took a quill and ink out of a drawer, and started dictating to me. The letter was to Mr. Carroll and he kept changing it, making it impossible to get anything down, which is just as well because it got increasingly threatening and at one point he expressed his desire to set Mr. Carroll on fire. Somewhere in the middle of this, Glasses came in with a hat order. The Hatter asked her what kind of head she said, and she said, "a good one?" and he started instructing her on hats, while still dictating his weird, broken letter to me. Then at the end, he declared my scrabbled dictation (where I kept insisting on writing "Dear Mr. Carroll" every time he said it, even though it took up time and space) to be enough, tossed it over his shoulder, and asked what kind of head I had. I said long, so he put me in a crazy leopard-print hat. He asked why a raven was like a writing desk, and I said no one knows. I was splattered with ink by that point.
He led us and our crazy hats to a room where two chairs were set up on opposite sides of an empty frame. He told Glasses she looked ravishing, told me "You're dangerous," took our hats and scampered off. Both Alices came in and did a lovely dance around the frame (which was supposed to be a mirror). Then Big Alice took me into a side room where she pulled some vials out from under a desk, and we shook them up and drank them. Then she did this amazing dance where she grew and shrank. Words cannot do it justice - you knew she was just stretching and moving up on furniture, but she did it in this beautiful, interesting, indescribable way where you got the distinct impression she was actually growing. Then she shrunk back down, smaller than normal, squeezing into a tiny gap. It was utterly spellbinding. Betsy had seen the show the week before and told me about this particular routine, and she was absolutely right. (Comparing stories, we realized that what you see appears to be based on where you sit - we saw the exact same tracks and realized we'd sat in the same seats.)
Alice took me back to the frame room where Glasses was waiting and had apparently snacked on clementines with the other Alice. Big Alice gave us each sections and we munched them, Big Alice grinning like a satisfied child all the while. She led us back to the initial waiting room (part of the set now! Who knew!) and then snuck out of the door, positioning us to watch down the hallway where Lewis Carroll was doing a really interesting dance under the stairs, writhing and lolling and looking like he was walking up them. When he was finished, he came and collected us, taking us to the staircase and disappearing, leaving us in the care of a dancing nurse. Glasses and I split up there, when the nurse led me to the rose room. The rose room was lovely, roses all along the wall and ceiling, and a big pile of beheaded ones on the floor. I was placed on a stool next to a butcher block where a painted rose was sitting (Lena and I are pretty sure this was the one she painted when she was off doing crafts with the White Rabbit). The Red Queen and the Rabbit came in then, she looked at the rose laying on the butcher block disdainfully, beheaded it with a large kitchen knife, and left. The Rabbit, who was perfectly pleasant on his own but was absolutely twitchy and rabbity when in the presence of the Red Queen, then did this elaborate knife-spinning routine. I know it was a set and scripted, but there is still something very unsettling about being alone in a room with a sweaty man and a large knife. He took a rose from the pile on the floor and inserted it into the ceiling. It was very cinematic.
The Rabbit then took me into the hallway and sat me there, the Doctor and a different nurse than before were doing a miming dance in the hallway. I think they were supposed to be taking inventory. A second or possibly third nurse came along and put me in Carroll's office. He had me take dictation for him, and he actually gave me time to finish, unlike the Hatter. He also had a regular ballpoint, so I did not walk away smeared with ink. He pulled a book on his shelf and it motherfucking opened a secret door into a secret room, this gorgeous fucking set where some of the floorboards were torn away and there was just water everywhere with discarded bottles in it. He rolled up the letter I'd written for him, put it in one of the bottles, then just let it float in the water. (Internet hunting leads me to believe that the text is the same as the torn-up letter from L.C. Big Alice was reading when we came downstairs.) One of the prevailing themes for the show is "no one ever seems to get all the mail that gets sent out." Well no wonder.
A nurse then came to collect me, taking me to a room across the hall with a series of weird animal portraits and a Victrola playing "The Walrus and the Carpenter". She gave me a hollowed out book and left me alone (the book contained a series of documents about Carroll), then came back to give me the program and a cup of tea. Then we all got to go downstairs and meet up. There was no big finale like there is with Sleep No More, but each of the final scenes we got worked beautifully as an ending scene. A desolate and barefoot Lewis Carroll, sitting ankle-deep in water filled with broken missives to the girl with whom he has a complicated relationship, thinking about his life choices in this room that blurs the line between fantasy and reality? A gorgeous, appropriate ending.
Favorite dance was probably the Alice growing dance, I cannot stress that enough, it was absolutely beautiful. Favorite set was Carroll's secret room, it was so weird and out of place in the overall asylum setting, but so beautiful. Favorite cast members, although I think they rotate them between performances, were the White Queen and Big Alice. Big Alice had this remarkable childlike wonderment, even though the actress was about my age. And the story is so wonderfully tragic and haunting. The soundtrack I didn't care so much for. I want to compare it, naturally, to Sleep No More, but other than the dancing and the immersive nature of it, there's no real comparison between the two. The entire damn thing is a one-on-one, and you are just basically in the story. The characters acknowledge you, they talk to you, they ask you questions. It's the most intimate, engaging theater experience I could imagine. We've already bought return tickets.